


Never Too Late

by daniomalley



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2536052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniomalley/pseuds/daniomalley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha is never quite sure if she's doing the right thing in bringing up her daughter, and it doesn't help when she keeps running into Pepper Potts and her perfect child. But as she gets to know Pepper better Natasha realises she might be wrong about her - and about herself as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to kuri_tan for the amazing artwork created for this fic. You can view the art [here](http://authorkurikuri.tumblr.com/post/101332885170/never-too-late-daniomalley22-complete-10k).
> 
> Thanks also to littlerhymes for betaing, and thanks to the mods for running an awesome challenge.

It was Natasha’s first science fair. She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but the school hall was packed with kids and strange-looking science projects. She looked around and was relieved to conclude that Darya’s entry wouldn’t look too out of place.

Darya had wanted to show how flowers could turn different colours if their stems were split and given water coloured with food dye. It looked impressive, but Natasha was fairly sure Darya was more interested in how pretty the flowers looked than the relevant science.

Natasha spotted Darya’s project on the other side of the hall and began making her way towards it. She saw a familiar head of red hair coming her way and began to look for a different path across the hall, but it was too late. Natasha forced her expression into something approaching civil as she came face to face with Pepper Potts.

“Natasha,” Pepper said, the merest hint of surprise in her voice. “Darya entered the science fair?”

Oh, so Darya wasn’t smart enough to enter the science fair? “Pepper,” Natasha said, smiling with false warmth. “It’s so great that you were able to make time to come.” Behind Pepper, she could see Mitchell prodding dispiritedly at some sort of large machine.

“I said I didn’t _want_ all this stuff, Dad,” he whined. “I wanted to build a maze out of popsicle sticks and run a rat through it.”

“Behavioural science, Mitchell? Come on, I taught you better than that. Look at this thing! Look, it’s cool, right?”

Pepper’s smile began to look decidedly forced. “Well, don’t let me keep you, I’m sure Darya’s just dying to show you what she’s made.”

“I’m sure she is,” Natasha said sweetly, and went on her way. She didn’t believe for a second that Mitchell had made his project entirely without help. God forbid Tony Stark’s son not win first place.

He didn’t win first place, as it turned out. He got second, and Natasha enjoyed several seconds of entertainment imagining Tony Stark’s disappointed face. 

Darya’s flowers won an honourable mention, which she crowed about all the way home.

***

Parent-teacher night was always a trial. Natasha never knew how to answer the more awkward questions, the ones that started “Darya is a very imaginative and talkative child...” and ended with the teacher pulling out some objectionable picture or other.

The previous year, Darya had written a story. It went: _Once a princess lived in a beautiful castle. Monsters came and killed her parents and all her friends and tried to kill her too. She hid up in the tower but the monster tried to break in. He came for her and she stabbed him in the heart with a spindle. Then she lived happily ever after the end_.

Natasha had realised a bit too late that maybe she shouldn’t be telling Darya too many stories about her own childhood. And she’d never been able to get her to understand what a spinning wheel was.

Outside the classroom, a group of women were standing together and talking. Pepper was in the middle of the group, laughing louder than the others and playing with the strap on her purse in what Natasha would have called a nervous habit in someone less put-together. As Natasha passed, the group quietened and watched in a way that set her teeth on edge.

Sometimes Natasha regretted not making more of an effort to get to know people. Get to know them socially, that was, not just as well as she needed to to do her job or get something she wanted. But that was the problem: she didn’t really know how to interact with people without some sort of agenda, even if it was as simple as ‘convince Clint to cover my shift on Saturday’.

And sometimes she looked at the mothers whose children went to school with Darya, at their flawless, vacant expressions, at Pepper’s mastery of superficiality, and wanted to run the other way. Maybe she was being unfair. They probably weren’t as shallow as Natasha liked to think they were – no one could be, surely? But finding out had never seemed to be worth the effort, not when Natasha could barely maintain a facade of normality herself. She put the women out of her mind and went through the classroom door.

This year, Darya had made a shadow puppet. She’d cut a hole for the mouth, lined with sharp teeth dabbed with drops of red paint.

“It’s blood,” said Mrs Davis. “Or so Darya told me when I asked her.”.

Natasha nodded. “It’s made quite well,” she said. “She was very neat with the scissors.”

Mrs Davis smiled at her, the same close-lipped smile the women had given her outside. Natasha smiled back, just as tightly.

“Ms Romanov, I wonder if there’s anything I need to know about Darya? Anything I should be... aware of?”

There wasn’t, that was the trouble. Well, okay, maybe that wasn’t true, and maybe Mrs. Davis would find the truth helpful. But it was Natasha’s story, and she hated telling it. She’d only told Darya parts of it, and only because Darya was a light sleeper, like Natasha herself. She always knew when Natasha couldn’t sleep, and wanted to know why. It was just a story to her, an adventure like the cartoons she watched on TV. But that was far too much to try to explain to someone who didn’t know them.

Once Natasha left the classroom, the women had dispersed. Only Pepper was still there, leaning against the wall and clutching her phone in one white-knuckled hand.

Natasha paused. She reminded herself that she didn’t care if Pepper was upset, but the other woman looked miserable and exhausted, in a way that belied the happy face she’d put on earlier. She always looked perfect, like she belonged on a movie set somewhere and had just stepped out for a few minutes to mingle with the commoners, but today her flawless make-up couldn’t conceal her flushed cheeks and slightly red eyes. She looked like a normal person, just like everyone else. Still prettier than most, maybe, but more approachable, more human, than usual.

“Is something wrong?” Natasha asked against her better judgement. Pepper looked up at her, startled, and her body language became more guarded. Natasha already regretted not keeping quiet, but she found herself saying, “I hate parent teacher interviews too. I’m sure everything will be okay.”

Pepper’s eyes narrowed. “If I want to hear about how I’m failing as a parent and ruining my son’s life, I’ll call my mother, thanks,” she snapped. Natasha recoiled. Alright, then. Next time she’d know better than to offer any sympathy. Natasha smirked nastily at Pepper, turned on her heel and walked away.

***

Traditionally, in the last week before Spring Break, the school would hold a concert and each class was supposed to perform. Darya had been practicing her dance routine and singing for at least two weeks, and Natasha had learned the words to _Allstar_ from beginning to end. Natasha had put a costume together for her out of things she’d found at a thrift store, because sewing was not something she excelled at.

When Natasha dropped Darya off in the rehearsal room behind the school’s auditorium, she was already bouncing with excitement. Natasha gave the harried teachers a sympathetic glance and made her escape, hoping that she’d be able to find a good seat. They hadn’t arrived at the school as early as she would have liked.

There weren’t many seats left; Natasha grabbed one on the aisle but way up the back, and was glad that it wasn’t any worse. She had a decent view of the stage, at least. Kids were looking around the wings at the audience, giggling and waving. A constant murmur of voices filled the room, and some parents were already taking photos. And then Natasha heard voices much closer.

“I reminded you five times today, Tony! I don’t understand how you can constantly...”

“I didn’t forget! I was running a little late, sure, but we’re here now and they haven’t started yet...”

“There’s no seats left,” Pepper muttered. Natasha glanced at the empty seat next to her, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“There’s two seats right here,” Tony said, right next to her. Damn. “Excuse me,” Tony said, and Natasha made herself smile and move in the seat so that Tony could get past. He took the next seat over, and that left Pepper to take the one between him and Natasha.

Pepper eased herself past Natasha with a curt nod, smoothing her dress down viciously so it wouldn’t brush against Natasha’s pants. She settled down in the seat and gave every appearance of pretending Natasha didn’t exist. Suited her fine. If she moved her arm an inch to the right, it would touch Pepper’s elbow. She didn’t, instead forcing her attention back to the stage.

The lights dimmed and everyone started to clap as the first class – the kindergartners – came on stage and started doing some routine involving zoo animals. Even Natasha could admit that it was pretty cute. And then the first graders came on, and the second graders, and they all started to blend together until finally, it was time for Darya’s class.

The kids were pretending to be a rock band, and it was amusing to watch. Natasha looked for Darya on the stage and tried to ignore Pepper and Tony’s whispered conversation.

“I can’t believe that teacher put Mitchell on the drums with Tristan.”

“He seems fine.”

“I don’t like that child.”

Natasha was too self-controlled to give into the urge to roll her eyes, but she wanted to. How could Pepper cope with being such a control freak? If she didn’t want Mitchell associating with his classmates, maybe she should just keep him at home and hire a tutor. It wasn’t like she couldn’t afford it.

“Too late to worry about it now,” Tony said, and thank God at least one of them had some sense. It was lucky for Pepper that she was good-looking, because she had the personality of a wart.

Then the big finish happened, Darya in position right in front holding a cardboard guitar, and Natasha was grinning too hard to be annoyed.

***

“You want to go to whose birthday party?”

“Mitchell’s!” Darya’s tone conveyed that she had no patience for Natasha’s inability to understand. “Mitchell’s my friend. He knows lots of fun games.”

Natasha breathed hard through her nose and tried to remember the last time Darya had been invited to a classmate’s house to play. It had been back in January, she realised, and Darya had never asked to go back. She couldn’t put her own petty grudge over the fact that her daughter finally seemed to have made a friend. Even Natasha wasn’t that cold. But God, why couldn’t she have befriended some other kid?

“Okay,” Natasha said reluctantly. “When is it?”

Once Natasha had agreed to the party, there was an abundance of small tasks to be managed. Darya would need a birthday gift, of course, and that meant figuring out what to get for a nine-year-old boy who, by all accounts, already had more stuff than any dozen children could possibly need.

“What does Mitchell like?” Natasha asked.

“He’s good at building things,” said Darya. Natasha considered a Lego set, but it turned out that anything except the smallest and simplest sets were prohibitively expensive. How could people justify spending so much on toys for children? Darya didn’t have anywhere near this many toys. She’d never complained about it, but Natasha suddenly worried that she was depriving Darya of a normal childhood.

There were science sets that Darya pointed out, but Natasha reasoned that Tony Stark’s son probably had more, and better, science equipment at home than could be found in any department store in the state.

“Does he like to read?” Natasha asked desperately, and when Darya shrugged she picked up a volume of children’s classics that she hoped wouldn’t cause all the other parents in attendance to look down their noses at her. She also grabbed a brightly coloured plastic action figure, which she gave to Darya.

Darya accepted the toy with excitement and ripped the packaging open in the car. She played with it all the way home, and by the time they got there she’d named the figure, given him a backstory and constructed an elaborate family tree which connected him to every other toy she owned.

Then they had to figure out what Darya should wear. Natasha had a feeling that birthday parties were something children were supposed to dress up for, but Darya’s idea of dressing up was to put on clothes she liked with no regard for how they worked in combination. The shopping trip they attempted together ended in tears. Eventually Natasha gave up and let Darya choose her own outfit, and it wasn’t awful or anything, just... colourful. 

The party was held at Pepper’s house, which was a huge modern home on a massive block. Natasha pulled up outside and double checked the address. She’d expected more of a crowd for a party of a family as well-off as the Starks. Maybe they were just the first to arrive. Darya had insisted they not be even a minute late.

Natasha led the way up the footpath, determinedly not admiring the perfectly manicured garden. She rang the doorbell and Pepper answered the door. “Hello – oh, hi, Natasha. Darya.” Pepper smiled warmly down at Darya, and insincerely at Natasha. “Come in, please.”

Pepper led them to the large back room, an open plan living, dining and kitchen area. She was wearing a wrap dress under a light jacket, and it flattered her figure well. Not that Natasha was looking or anything. She was just admiring the fabric, and it was sort of hard to miss.

Mitchell was sitting on the sofa along with three other kids. “Darya’s here!” he shouted when he saw them. He ran over and Darya gave him her present. Natasha watched as he unwrapped it, waiting for him to express disappointment or criticise the gift, but he seemed to like it. “Wow, thank you, Darya, Mrs Romanov,” he said, in a way that seemed oddly formal for such a young kid. “This looks awesome. Come on, we’re playing the new Super Mario game.”

Darya ran to join the other kids, barely looking over her shoulder to say “Bye.”

Natasha smiled after her before turning back to Pepper. “Well,” she said, “What time do you think I should come back to pick her up?”

Pepper shrugged. “About four or five o’clock, I suppose,” she said. “Although...” Pepper looked conflicted, but added, “Some of the other parents are sticking around. You’re welcome to stay too. I’ve put out some grown-up food along with the cupcakes and party pies.”

“Oh – thanks for the offer,” Natasha said, trying to think of a graceful way to decline. She was certain that Pepper had only extended the invitation out of politeness, but that was no reason not to be polite in return. “I actually...”

“Oh, you must be Natasha!” said a new voice from behind Natasha. She turned to see a woman about her own age standing in a doorway, a man standing just behind her. “I guess everyone’s here then.”

Natasha smiled, and the woman added, “You’re staying, aren’t you? Greg and I have to go, and I wouldn’t want to leave Pepper by herself with this crowd.”

Natasha blinked and looked at the kids sitting by the TV, occasionally yelling at the screen or jumping around, but behaving remarkably well for children at a birthday party, so far as she could tell.

“I’m so sorry, Pepper, we wanted to stay,” the woman added. “But Greg’s mother locked herself out of her apartment again, and we have to drive to Long Island to help her.”

“Oh, dear,” said Pepper. “I hope everything’s okay.”

They said their goodbyes and Pepper walked the other two to the front door, while Natasha stood rooted to the spot and realised that she’d never actually agreed to hang around.

“You don’t have to stay,” Pepper said, coming back into the kitchen and apparently reading Natasha’s thoughts. “I can handle things, and you’ve probably got somewhere to be.”

Natasha looked back at the kids playing. She hadn’t been planning to stay for the party, but for some reason she felt reluctant to leave. Oh, no. Was she actually feeling sorry for Pepper? Alone at her kid’s birthday party, where the number of kids invited could apparently be counted on one hand? Darya’s birthday celebrations had always been even smaller than this, but Natasha figured parents like the Starks would treat a birthday party as just another weapon in the battle for status. Surely they could have at least paid a few more kids to show up, she thought nastily. 

“Actually, I don’t have anything on,” Natasha said, wondering when she’d become so soft-hearted. “I don’t mind sticking around, if it’s not any trouble.”

For a second, Pepper looked surprised, but she smoothed the expression over quickly and said, “Of course not. Wonderful! Would you like a mini-quiche?”

Natasha had a mini-quiche and a few crackers with dip, while Pepper went to offer the kids some snacks. She’d put more food out than the two of them would eat, probably more than the four of them could have eaten if the other parents had stayed. She must have been expecting more people who hadn’t come for whatever reason, and now Natasha really did feel sorry for her. 

Pepper came back and offered Natasha a drink, and they took them to the other side of the room where they could watch the kids playing while also giving them some space. Natasha sat in a comfortable chair and smiled at Pepper. She wished she’d thought this through a bit more; this was awkward.

“Tony’s not here?” she asked, then felt stupid when Pepper looked irritated.

“He’s running late,” she said. “He promised he’d be here, but he gets distracted so easily. I left a message on his voicemail, though, so he’ll probably get here eventually. If he knows what’s good for him.”

An undertone in Pepper’s voice suggested that Tony might not have the opportunity to miss any more birthday parties if he missed this one. Natasha watched Pepper, fascinated. She’d never seen the other woman quite so unguarded.

Pepper’s expression cleared as she visibly collected herself. “So,” she said brightly, “I know hardly anything about you, Natasha. What do you do?”

Natasha was slow to answer, but of course she couldn’t ignore the question entirely. “I’m a security guard. At the Museum of the Moving Image.” She hated the way people tended to react when she talked about her job, and this was Pepper, who had a three car garage and a billionaire ex-husband and who was probably going to look down on Natasha just by default. Natasha reluctantly admitted to herself that she cared what Pepper thought of her. 

In the end, Pepper’s response was pretty unremarkable. “Really?” she said. “That’s unusual. How did you end up in that line of work?”

And that was a perfectly normal question. It wasn’t at all Pepper’s fault that Natasha didn’t want to answer it.

“Just lucky, I guess,” Natasha said vaguely. Pepper nodded, but Natasha could see in her face that she wasn’t convinced. Well, it hadn’t been an especially skilful deflection. Pepper tactfully didn’t pursue the topic and Natasha looked around for something else to talk about; just because she was more comfortable away from this sort of ostentatious wealth, it didn’t mean she’d completely lost her skill with people. She could make conversation for one afternoon.

“You have a beautiful art collection,” Natasha said. Pepper’s living room wouldn’t have looked out of place in the museum, between the decor and the gadgets everywhere. The TV the kids were playing with was nearly as long as the sofa.

“Thanks,” said Pepper. “I’ve always loved art. I wanted to major in art history in college, but I had to choose between that and business, and, well...” 

“You didn’t want to be a, a painter, or something?” Natasha asked.

“No, I’m not really talented like that. But when I got promoted at Stark Industries, I was given responsibility for the company’s collection.”

“That sounds... nice,” Natasha said. She supposed it would be nice, for Pepper, who liked that sort of thing.

“It is.” Pepper looked back at the kids, who seemed to be getting tired of the game, and were starting to bicker. “It’s time to go provide some entertainment,” said Pepper, and Natasha got up to follow her across the room.

Natasha was expecting something special from Pepper, the woman who could turn a bake sale into an operation of near-military efficiency, but to her surprise Pepper’s idea of party entertainment was two bowls and a bag of cotton balls. She poured the cotton into one bowl and had the children take turns to move them to the other using a spoon, while blindfolded. For all that it was a simple game, they all seemed to find it extremely enjoyable. 

Natasha could admit to herself that it was pretty amusing. The kids teased one another good-naturedly and gave one another misleading suggestions. It was just that she’d never have expected Pepper to come up with something so low-key.

“Okay,” Pepper said, once everyone had had a go. “Now it’s Natasha’s turn.”

“What?” Natasha said, disbelievingly, but all the kids had responded to Pepper’s announcement with squeals of glee, and Pepper already had the blindfold in one hand. “Fine,” Natasha grumbled, less graciously than she would have liked.

Pepper moved to put the blindfold over her eyes, but Natasha took it from her and did it herself. Pepper put the spoon in her hand and spun her around three times before guiding her to sit down in front of the bowls.

Natasha sighed and scooped with the spoon. If she had to play, she’d get it over with as soon as she could. Unfortunately, it proved to be a lot harder than it had looked. The cotton balls were almost weightless, so she couldn’t really tell if they were in the spoon or not. She remembered the position of the bowls well enough, but moving the spoon too quickly caused the cotton balls to fall. When the kids cried out that the bowl was empty, Natasha pulled the blindfold off to see cotton balls all over the table and floor. She began to gather them up.

“Pepper’s turn,” she said with a wicked glint in her eye.

Pepper couldn’t argue, not after making Natasha play. She took the blindfold and put it on, smiling and laughing like she was having the time of her life. Natasha made a show of filling the bowl with cotton balls, but once she was sure Pepper couldn’t see she took the bowl and tipped it out on the other side of the coffee table. Mitchell bent double with laughter and the other kids followed suit.

Pepper got to work with the spoon, scooping it into the bowl with an expression of total concentration. Natasha wondered how long she should let it go on. More than a few minutes seemed a little mean spirited, for all that it was very funny. But as the kids’ giggles became louder, Pepper became suspicious and slid the blindfold off.

“Ah!” she cried, seeing the cotton balls on the floor, while Darya fell of the couch clutching her stomach and at least two other kids were crying tears of laughter. Natasha worried that Pepper would be angry at the prank, but she laughed just as hard as everyone else.

“Okay,” said Pepper. “I think that’s enough of that game. Who thinks it’s time for cake?”

Apparently, everyone did. Pepper had just lit the candles when a knock sounded on the front door, and a male voice called, “Hey! Did you guys start the party without me?”

Pepper gave an exasperated sigh and put down the lighter. Mitchell yelled “Dad!” and ran to the front of the house. 

“Hey,” Tony said, walking into the main room with Mitchell at his side. “I hope I made it in time for cake.”

“Just barely,” Pepper said in an icy tone. Tony winced and nodded to Natasha. Natasha nodded back, and Pepper said, “If the interruptions are all finished with now, maybe Mitchell would like to blow out the candles?”

That was more like the Pepper that Natasha knew. Not the woman who’d planned a kid’s birthday party and played silly games with her son and his friends. This woman, who was all cool efficiency and machine-like precision.

Everyone sang _Happy Birthday_ and Pepper told Mitchell to make a wish. Natasha clapped with the others once the candles were blown out, and Pepper began serving the cake. It was good. Moist and rich, with a sweet frosting. Natasha tried to focus on that rather than the whispered argument between Pepper and Tony.

“Did you really have to be the last one here?”

Tony looked around the room. “Surely I can’t be the last one here.”

“Tony-”

“Seriously? I thought more kids would show up than this.”

“All the kids are here that he wanted to invite.”

Tony shook his head irritably and lowered his voice. “This isn’t why I wanted him to go to school close to home. I want him to be a happy kid...”

“Mitchell _is_ a happy kid,” Pepper snapped. “He’s just not like you, Tony. You need to understand that.”

“I do understand that, damn it! But you _know_ he’s having problems with the kids at school. Not these kids, maybe, but...”

“Let’s not talk about this right now. It’s Mitchell’s birthday party.”

Pepper stepped away from Tony and raised her voice. “Who wants me to bring out the DDR mat?”

Pepper laid a plastic mat down on the floor. It had four arrows pointing in different directions, and Natasha could see it somehow worked with a video game Pepper put into the Nintendo Wii. Darya watched just as intently as Natasha did, while one of the kids jumped up and tapped out some sequence of moves on the mat according to what showed on the television. Natasha knew she’d never played this game before, but when it was her turn Mitchell explained what to do and showed her how to play.

“Mitchell thinks the world of your daughter,” Pepper said at Natasha’s side.

Natasha twitched. She hadn’t realised Pepper was so close, had been too occupied watching Darya. “Oh, really?” she said, trying for a casual tone.

“Really,” said Pepper. “He talks about her all the time. They’re just about inseparable at school.”

Natasha wondered why she hadn’t known that. Why hadn’t Darya ever mentioned her friend? Why hadn’t she ever seen them playing together when she dropped Darya off at school or picked her up in the afternoon? Natasha had always thought that she was close to her daughter, an attentive mother. Had she gone wrong somehow?

“That’s nice for them,” Natasha said absently.

“It is.” Pepper watched the kids playing for a minute, then added, “Mitchell doesn’t have a lot of friends. Darya’s friendship means a lot to him.”

Natasha nodded. She remembered when Darya had brought home Mitchell’s invitation, and how she’d wondered how many real friends Darya had. She hadn’t been pleased that Darya had picked Pepper’s child to befriend out of a whole class of possibilities, but knowing that Darya had _someone_ had been more important. It seemed like Pepper was willing to put aside her differences too, for the sake of her son.

“If Mitchell ever wants to come around one day to play, he’s more than welcome,” Natasha said.

As soon as she’d made the invitation, she began to regret it.

***

When she brought Darya home from the party, all she could see was their tiny, rundown apartment. The moisture stains over the kitchen sink, the burns on the carpet that had been there since they’d moved in. There was no laundry room and the washing machine was crammed into the bathroom. All the windows were on the same side, and didn’t let in enough light.

Natasha knew that it wasn’t actually that bad. The stains weren’t that big, the burns weren’t very noticeable. Lots of apartments had a combined laundry and bathroom. The lack of light wasn’t such a big deal. But she couldn’t help but compare it to Pepper’s house, because she knew that was what Pepper would compare it to.

“We have to clean!” Natasha said, because Pepper had agreed to bring Mitchell around after school on Wednesday, and she was working every day until then.

Darya just looked at her. “I’m tired, Mom,” she said. “And I’m hungry. Can’t we clean tomorrow?”

“How can you be hungry, you ate three slices of birthday cake!”

Darya just shrugged, and Natasha reminded herself that party food wasn’t exactly real food. She still wasn’t convinced that Darya needed a big meal, however, so she heated up some tinned soup and crusty rolls. After they’d eaten, Natasha gave the bathroom the most thorough scrubbing it had ever had. Darya watched cartoons for half an hour or so, until she was falling asleep on the couch. Natasha sent her to bed, telling her, “You need to make sure all your toys are put away when you’re not using them. And you can dust everything on Tuesday night. Help me out a bit.”

“Okay, Mom,” Darya said with an enormous sigh. “Good night.”

***

Natasha picked Darya up from school on Monday, yawning because she’d worked late and got up early to scour the kitchen before Darya got up. She put the car into gear and pulled away from the kerb.

“What did you do today?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Darya said, like she usually did. Natasha wasn’t really sure what schoolchildren Darya’s age normally did all day, but she hoped it was more than nothing. Otherwise she was paying a lot in school fees for no damn reason.

“Mrs Davis broke the roller blind,” Darya added after a moment’s thought, clearly considering it the highlight of her day. Natasha sighed and glanced over at her during a lull in the traffic. Something caught her eye and she blinked. Was Darya wearing a bracelet made of rubber bands? And why?

“What’s that on your arm?” Natasha asked.

“It’s a bandaloom bracelet.”

“A _what_?” 

“A bandaloom bracelet,” Darya repeated, leaving Natasha no more enlightened. “You get these colourful rubber bands and you braid them all together on this frame and it makes a bracelet.”

“Oh,” Natasha said, trying to sound like she understood. “Where did you get it?”

“Mitchell made it for me.”

“Oh.” Natasha looked at the bracelet again. It didn’t look like the sort of thing a boy would make. On the other hand, Mitchell didn’t act like most boys she’d known. He didn’t act like any of the _children_ she’d known, back when she’d been one herself. Natasha always had to remember not to use her own childhood to measure other people’s experiences.

“Mom, will you tell me the story about the strawberries again?”

The question took Natasha by surprise. “You like that story?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Darya looked thoughtful for a minute. “I dunno,” she said, shrugging. “Just, you really wanted strawberries. And then you found some strawberries!”

Natasha laughed. She still didn’t really understand. Darya had never gone hungry in her life – Natasha had made sure of that – but she still loved to hear the story about Natasha and her ratbag friends stealing the strawberries out of some poor man’s garden and feasting on them. 

“The weather was just turning warm...” she began.

***

In between work and school, the two of them got the apartment cleaned up. Darya insisted they stop at a supermarket to pick up snacks – apparently the chips and soda they already had were not up to scratch. They arrived home from school on Wednesday afternoon and Natasha looked around for anything that was out of place.

“It’s fine, Mom,” Darya said. Spring cleaning had lost its appeal for her very soon after they’d begun, and Darya had become increasingly impatient with Natasha’s preoccupation.

“I know it is,” Natasha lied. While Darya wasn’t looking she wiped down the countertop one last time, and then the doorbell rang. 

Mitchell and Pepper stood at the door, Mitchell holding a plate of brownies. “Mom said we needed to bring something, so we bought these at the bakery. The plate is from home, though, so you’ll have to give it back,” he said seriously.

“Mitchell!” Pepper exclaimed, two bright red spots appearing on her cheeks. “That was a little rude.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Natasha could see Darya eyeing the treat like it was going to fly away, so she grabbed napkins and served the brownies quickly, telling the kids to eat them in the kitchen before going to play. They wolfed the brownies down and raced off, Pepper calling half-heartedly after Mitchell to wash his hands.

“Well,” Pepper said once they were gone, “Thanks so much for having Mitchell over.”

“It’s no problem,” Natasha said. The silence stretched out awkwardly. Natasha debated whether to do the polite thing and invite Pepper to stay, as Pepper had done for her.

“Do you-” Natasha began, just as Pepper said,

“I love the-”

They both stopped and glanced at one another, chuckling uneasily. Natasha waved at Pepper to go on, and she said, “That’s a beautiful print, over the couch. A Matisse?”

“Yeah,” said Natasha, shrugging. She hadn’t been as interested in the origin of the artwork as the fact that it matched the curtains. “It’s not an original, of course,” she added pointlessly. “Nothing like what you’ve got at home.”

“An original Matisse, wouldn’t that be something?” Pepper said with a laugh. “You have amazing taste, though. Your home is beautifully decorated.”

That was a bit too much for Natasha to take. She didn’t make any special effort to make the home look nice, just tried to keep things reasonably tidy. “Still, I’m sure it’s nothing like what you’re used to,” she said. Pepper’s presence was putting her on edge, making her feel out of control.

Pepper looked at her intently. “You don’t like me much, do you, Natasha?” she asked.

Natasha froze solid, unable to believe that Pepper had finally spoken the truth neither of them had acknowledged since they met.

“Uh,” she said. “Um. I don’t know what you mean.”

“What I don’t understand is, why?” Pepper demanded, as if she hadn’t spoken.

Since Pepper wasn’t playing along with Natasha’s pretence at ignorance, she went on the attack. “Come on, Pepper, it’s no secret that you don’t really care for me either.”

Pepper narrowed her eyes. “No, it’s not the same,” she said decisively. “You’ve had it in for me since we first met. I only reacted to you. Why? What did I do to you?”

Natasha sighed. Now that Pepper had put her on the spot, the reasons for her grudge seemed unbelievably petty. No, not seemed. They were.

“It’s really nothing,” she said.

“I want to know.”

“It’s just...” She hesitated, not really accepting that she was actually about to divulge this story to Pepper. But Pepper was waiting expectantly, so she said, “It’s just... back when Darya first started at the school, there was this fundraiser, a bake sale. You remember?”

Pepper nodded. Natasha added, “I volunteered to help organise it because I thought it would help me meet people. And at the first meeting, I’d made a few suggestions people liked, just some things that were slightly different, and then you came in late and said, well, no, that’s not how we do it, and you changed everything back. And everyone just sort of went along with it.”

“Huh,” said Pepper. “I don’t really remember, but I might have – It would have been right around the time Tony and I were getting divorced. I was kind of difficult to deal with then.” She looked at Natasha, waited for a moment, then said, “And?”

“And what?”

“And, so – that’s it?” Pepper said incredulously. “That’s the whole reason you’ve had it in for me for two and a half years? Natasha, that’s...” She trailed off, her expression troubled.

“Look, I’ve never been great at getting along with people, and I sort of figured with Darya changing schools it was a chance for me to make a bit of an effort, and then it turned out, well...”

“No.” Pepper shook her head. “That’s bullshit.” Natasha stared at hearing that come out of proper, cultured Pepper’s mouth. “Because I vetoed some of your suggestions at a bake sale more than two years ago, you haven’t made a single friend out of all Darya’s classmates’ parents? That’s just an excuse you’re using to hide from the real reason.”

Natasha moved away from Pepper, suddenly dismayed that she’d cleaned the house so thoroughly that there was nothing to do to give her a pretence of being busy. 

“You’re afraid of getting close to people,” Pepper accused, following her but keeping a little space between them. “Why?”

Natasha opened a cupboard between herself and Pepper and pretended she wasn’t hiding behind the door. “Just drop it, Pepper.”

“Why, so you can go back to blaming me for everything?”

Natasha closed the cupboard sharply, only checking herself at the last moment so that it didn’t slam. She tried to stare Pepper down, knowing that nothing showed on her face, not a flicker of weakness, but Pepper didn’t look away. She was nervous, though, with fingernails tapping restlessly at the countertop giving away her relaxed stance.

“I think I deserve an explanation,” Pepper said, her voice much quieter. Natasha stepped in close to her, meaning to push Pepper away, but instead her hand wrapped around Pepper’s wrist and held it loosely.

“I think you should...” Natasha trailed off, distracted somewhere in between failing to think of anything mean enough and watching Pepper’s lips move.

Pepper waited for her to finish, though. Waited until it became downright weird. Natasha tried to put together a convincing story, but there was something in Pepper’s unwavering gaze that made her question whether it was worth the effort.

“Think what you like,” she said instead. She stepped away from the counter and made her way to the door, employing every subtle trick she knew to convince Pepper it was time to leave. She must have underestimated Pepper, though, because she came towards Natasha with a purposeful tread, not appearing to notice the open door at all.

She stopped in front of Natasha, a bit of a frown on her face like she was trying to work something out. Natasha kept her face carefully neutral; she was good at that. No one had ever been able to get any information out of her that she hadn’t intended for them to get, so why did Pepper look so damn smug?

Pepper leaned in towards her and Natasha leaned away. Pepper smirked and Natasha wanted to kick herself; she knew better than to give ground so easily.

“Am I bothering you?” Pepper asked, her voice a lot deeper than usual. More sensual. Natasha shivered involuntarily and Pepper’s eyes widened. She blinked. Stepped back.

“Natasha...”

“Just go,” Natasha said, manoeuvring Pepper out the door and shutting it quickly behind her. She leaned against the door and replayed that memory – Pepper leaning in, the collar of her shirt offering just a glimpse of collarbone. Her voice, in that tone which could only be described as seductive – “Am I bothering you?”

She went to the window, where she could see Pepper down in the car park, getting into her car, sitting in it for a minute, then driving away.

She went back to the kitchen and poured herself some more coffee. “What the hell just happened?” she wondered aloud to the empty room.

***

It was pretty awkward when Pepper came back a few hours later to pick up Mitchell, but she was still pretending nothing had happened and Natasha followed her lead. She tried to put the incident out of her mind and had middling success.

A few days later Natasha got a call at work from Darya’s school.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, concerned.

“There’s been an incident,” answered the principal. “Darya’s not hurt, but we’d like you to come and collect her as soon as you can.”

So Natasha had to track down her supervisor and ask to leave early, which didn’t make him any happier than it did her. She hurried to the school, worried, even though the principal had assured her that Darya wasn’t hurt. They wouldn’t have called if something wasn’t wrong.

As she walked in to the front office, Natasha could hear Pepper’s voice raised in anger.

“You’re telling me that the one kid to stand up for Mitchell is a bad influence for him? Come on, Gary, give me a little credit here.”

Natasha could hear the principal reply in a lower voice but couldn’t make out the words. Pepper replied, and Natasha heard, “No, maybe those weren’t your exact words, but I can read between the lines quite well. The way I see it, no one at this school has done a damn thing about this situation except for a nine-year-old girl, and now you’re trying to make out that she’s the one in the wrong.”

Natasha caught the receptionist’s eye; she smiled tightly and said, “They won’t be long,” but Natasha was in no mood to wait. If Pepper’s argument with the principal turned out to be completely unrelated to Darya she could always apologise profusely later. She rapped on the door once and opened it.

“Mrs Romanov,” the principal said, looking not at all happy to see her.

“It’s Ms,” Natasha said. “What’s happened?”

“Darya intervened when some of this school’s less pleasant students were giving Mitchell a hard time,” Pepper said primly.

“Well, that is what they say happened,” the principal said. 

Natasha saw Pepper’s mouth opening, so she quickly said, “It sounds like you think differently.”

The principal straightened. “Ms Romanov, I need to tell you that your daughter pushed one student over and hit another with her pencil tin.”

“Good for her!” Pepper said.

“You both need to understand how serious this is!” the principal snapped. “We don’t tolerate fighting at this school.”

“But bullying is completely fine, apparently.”

“Pepper, we’d take action against the bullying if Mitchell would alert teachers when it happens. We can’t be everywhere.”

“Of course he’s not going to tell the teachers about it, Gary, come on! Why don’t you be a little proactive about this?”

The principal grabbed some papers from his desk and stacked them. “Ladies, I’m actually late for a meeting. We’ll have to pick this discussion up later. Ms Romanov, Darya will be suspended for the rest of the day and tomorrow. I hope this won’t happen again.”

“That’s completely ridiculous!” Pepper snapped, but the principal was already out the door.

Pepper and Natasha exchanged a glance. Pepper started to speak, stopped, and left the room. Natasha followed her. Darya was waiting in the reception area. When she saw Natasha she ran up and hugged her, hard.

“Can you get Mitchell to come up, please?” Pepper asked the receptionist stiffly. “I think I’ll take him home now.”

Natasha waited while trying not to be too obvious about it. Mitchell came up with his schoolbag and they headed out as a group.

Natasha looked at Pepper as they descended the school steps. It was the first time she’d seen Pepper since that day in her kitchen. She still looked angry, her face tense and flushed, but she looked good anyway. Pepper always looked good. 

Pepper looked over at her. “There’s a park we like not far from home,” she said. “Want to follow us?”

“Sure,” said Natasha.

Once they were at the park and Darya and Mitchell were off climbing the jungle gym, Pepper found a seat on a bench facing the playground and Natasha joined her.

“It’s strange to think that you’ve given your child everything you possibly could, and they still have problems you can’t help them with,” Pepper said with no preamble. “When I look back to when I was in elementary school, I don’t remember it being anything like what Mitchell’s gone through. Is that just nostalgia? Are these kids unusually vicious? What?”

The topic was hitting a little too close to home for Natasha, but she wanted to comfort Pepper. “Kids can be vicious, given the chance,” she said assuredly.

“But is this a normal part of growing up?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Natasha had always been good at reading people and knowing how to play them, and she’d had reason to develop the skill. She could tell that confiding a little bit in Pepper would gain her trust, and she did it almost without thinking about it. “My childhood wasn’t exactly normal.”

“Really?” said Pepper. “Why’s that?”

Natasha wondered why she’d told Pepper that. Pepper wasn’t a mark she needed to manipulate, damn it. Pepper was maybe a friend. Maybe she could be something more.

But confiding in one’s friends was possibly the thing to do. Natasha had never quite figured it out; she’d done a poor job of fitting in when she’d first arrived in America until she’d turned all her abilities towards becoming just like everyone else, losing the accent, learning the right stories to tell and wearing the right clothes and doing all the right things so she didn’t stand out, . She’d done it for years but it was hard enough to fake normality around acquaintances; if Pepper was going to be anything more than that she didn’t want to have to be constantly worried about acting a certain way.

“I left school when I was thirteen,” Natasha said, watching Pepper from the corner of her eye so she could monitor her reaction. So far, Pepper seemed surprised, eyebrows raised, but not too much. “I still read a lot, in Chechen and I’d learned to read Russian by then, and a little bit of English, but...”

“You’re Russian?” Pepper asked, surprised.

“ _Chechen_ ,” Natasha snapped, surprised at herself. She hadn’t realised she still cared that much about independence, but apparently she did.

“Okay,” said Pepper. “Sorry. I didn’t realise. You don’t have an accent.”

“I know. I made sure of that, once I left.” Pepper was looking at her with enough horror in her expression that Natasha said, “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to – I was just trying to say that there’s no point asking me what’s normal for a kid Mitchell’s age.”

“Right,” Pepper said, too quickly. “Okay. No – of course.”

On the playground, Darya went down the slide squealing and waving her arms. She stood at the bottom and shouted up to Mitchell, “Come on, your turn!”

“I worry about her,” Natasha said. “She’s nearly as old as I was when my parents died. How am I going to know how to raise a teenager?”

“I don’t think anyone knows how to raise a teenager,” Pepper said absently. “You’ll do okay.”

Mitchell slid down the slide, a lot slower than Darya had, and Pepper called out, “Five more minutes, Mitchell, then we’ll have to go home.” The kids raced back up the ladder to finish up whatever game they were playing, and Pepper said, “Natasha, I don’t know if I’ve completely got the wrong idea or not, but would you like to go see a movie with me? Maybe on Friday night?”

“Um,” Natasha said.

“Feel absolutely free to say no,” Pepper added quickly.

“I’d like that,” said Natasha.

Pepper smiled. “So would I,” she said. “I’ll call you later, and we can sort it out. Okay?”

“I’m looking forward to it,” said Natasha. “But... we didn’t figure anything out. About Mitchell. I’m sorry, I got distracted by my own...”

“Natasha,” said Pepper. “It’s fine. Please, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Yeah,” Natasha agreed. “See you.”

***

Pepper offered to have Darya babysat along with Mitchell at her house, which made things a bit easier. On the other hand, Natasha had to make sure that Darya had everything that she needed as well as getting herself ready for the first date she’d been on in years.

“Why are you and Pepper going to the movies?” Darya asked for the fifth time.

Natasha wasn’t sure how to answer that. Should she tell Darya the truth? What if it didn’t go well? What if it did go well? What if Darya got upset?

“We’re friends,” Natasha said instead. “We’re going to go out together – as friends.”

“You could come to Mitchell’s house with me and we could all hang out together,” Darya said. 

“Pepper and I want to have some time with just the two of us,” Natasha said. “You and Mitchell can have some time with just the two of you, too.”

“And the babysitter.”

“Well, yes, and the babysitter.”

What Pepper hadn’t mentioned was that the person watching Darya and Mitchell while they were out was Tony Stark. He grinned when he saw Darya and rubbed his hands together. “Awesome, you’re here. Now, who wants to make something explode?”

“Pepper?” Natasha asked over Darya and Mitchell’s excited squeals. 

“Don’t worry,” Pepper said. “He hides it well, but Tony’s actually good with kids. And very responsible when he needs to be.” She said that last with a glare over her shoulder in Tony’s direction, which Natasha found not at all reassuring. “He’ll convince them that they’re doing something far more dangerous than it actually is. They’ll be fine.”

Natasha still had some doubts, but Tony had both kids in gloves and safety glasses before she and Pepper were out the door. Pepper looked completely unconcerned so Natasha decided to let it go and hope for the best.

Natasha realised they might have made a mistake by not selecting a movie in advance around the time they reached the lobby and found that only two movies were due to start any time soon. Their choices were a romantic comedy or something with French subtitles, and Natasha studied Pepper from the corner of her eye to see which would get her judged less.

From the slight pursing of Pepper’s lips, she was making the same calculations, which struck Natasha as stupid. What was the point of going out with someone and not being able to be honest about what she actually liked? So Natasha said, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the French film.”

Pepper released a breath and actually looked kind of relieved. “Sounds good to me,” she said.

Afterwards, they went for a light dinner and coffee. Natasha had learned during the movie that Pepper spoke French, and that provided plenty of conversational fodder. Pepper had done a lot of travelling, both for business with Stark Industries and just for fun. She’d even been to Russia, once or twice, although Natasha was more interested in hearing about Venice. At least, until Pepper had let it slip that her vacation there had actually been her honeymoon with Tony. That made Natasha feel awkward.

“You two are still very close, aren’t you?” she asked. “I mean, I don’t want to sound jealous, but...”

“I suppose we are,” Pepper agreed. “That’s a bit unusual, isn’t it? It’s not – being with Tony seemed like the perfect life. You know, he’s wealthy and famous, and he tries to hide it but he’s actually a good person. But we weren’t happy together, and now things are better. We put up with each other a lot more easily.”

“It seems like you do better than putting up with each other.”

“Well, yes, we do. But that would never have happened if we were trying to be a happy married couple.” Pepper gave Natasha a long look. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” said Natasha quickly, because she knew she was supposed to. Then she took the time to figure out an honest answer. “Maybe, a little bit. Tony just seems like – a lot of competition. You said it, he’s rich and famous and a genius. I’m not...”

She trailed off, embarrassed, and Pepper shook her head. “It’s no competition. I don’t think of Tony like that anymore. It’s actually sort of hard to believe I ever did.” She shrugged. “We decided we had to figure out how to get along for Mitchell’s sake, and it turned out to be far easier once we were actually divorced. That’s all.”

“How is Mitchell?” Natasha asked, remembering what they’d talked about at the park.

“Oh,” Pepper sighed. “You know, still the same. It’s nearly impossible to get him to talk about anything that’s going on, but to tell you the truth I’m always a little bit relieved when he clams up, because if he did talk to me I probably couldn’t help him anyway.”

Natasha wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I have the same problem with Darya,” she offered tentatively. “Everything is so different for her that sometimes, I can’t think how to talk to her.” As soon as she’d said it, she began to regret it. Pepper had enough on her mind and probably didn’t need Natasha bringing up her own childhood issues. But Pepper was just nodding and smiling sadly.

“It’s kind of funny, isn’t it?” Pepper asked. “I mean, my parents were well enough off, middle class and all but not rich by a long shot. Now, I’ve got _everything_ I could possibly dream of. I can give Mitchell anything in the world, and I still can’t fix this. And you...” She stopped then, biting her lip like she was afraid of overstepping, so Natasha went on instead.

“When I was Darya’s age I could never imagine the sorts of opportunities she could have, but I’m still so sure that I’m not doing enough for her,” Natasha admitted. “She’s a great kid, but I know she doesn’t quite fit in with her peers, and I don’t know what to do about that. Or if I should do anything. And sometimes I worry that I’ve told her too much about my past, things she shouldn’t have to know about, but I was never taught that children should be protected from anything.”

Pepper laughed a little bit. “It’s a wonder anyone becomes a parent by choice, when it seems impossible to get it right,” she commented. “Tony’s parents had everything, and they tried to give him everything. Now I think his entire purpose in being Mitchell’s dad is to make sure he has the things he never got from his own parents. And that doesn’t seem to be working out so well. Now I wonder if Mitchell will grow up to send his own kids off to boarding school and do all the things with them that Tony and I have decided against.” She sighed shakily and Natasha drained the last of her coffee in one gulp.

“This is getting too serious,” she said. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”

They paid and left the restaurant. There was a short walk to the car, and Pepper’s knuckles brushed against Natasha’s as they walked. Natasha glanced sideways at the touch, startled, but then she turned her hand and wound her fingers through Pepper’s and the other woman smiled at her.

When Natasha pulled up in front of Pepper’s house, she reached to open the door, but Pepper took her hand again, and tugged.

Natasha leaned across and Pepper met her halfway, pressing her mouth against Natasha’s and opening it just enough to allow just a hint of tongue. Natasha made it a point to try to take control of the kiss, putting her hands to Pepper’s shoulders and parting her lips to chase Pepper’s tongue with her own. Pepper wasn’t a pushover, though, and a nip of her teeth made Natasha gasp.

Natasha felt Pepper’s hands run up her arms and then – yeah, that was Pepper’s hand on her breast. She pulled back, somewhat reluctant but not willing to go any further while parked on the side of the street. Pepper looked at her with dark eyes and a wicked expression; Natasha hadn’t realised Pepper was capable of looking like that.

“It’s getting late,” Natasha said breathlessly. “I’d better take Darya home.”

Pepper nodded. “We should do this again sometime.”

They walked up to the house together. Pepper’s hand brushed against Natasha’s and she knew this time that Pepper was doing it deliberately. “You remember what we were talking about earlier?” Pepper asked as they reached the front porch.

“Um...”

“About Mitchell and Darya, and how there’s some things we can’t just give them.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“Maybe we should focus on what we can.” 

It wasn’t a question, but Pepper’s expression seemed to demand a response, so Natasha said, “Okay?”

“Want to help me?”

***

Darya could barely contain her excitement. It was still a little early in the year for going to the beach, but Darya was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and could easily paddle or even swim if she got the urge. Natasha had made sure to pack a towel and change of clothes just in case.

Mitchell was dressed similarly and Pepper was carrying a basket of sandwiches and snacks. Natasha had made sure to bring sunscreen and a blanket to sit on, and they found a spot to set up on the sand. Although it was a Saturday, they’d made sure to leave early, and it wasn’t too crowded yet.

Mitchell and Darya dashed off as soon as they had Natasha and Pepper’s okay, squealing and jumping over piles of kelp. Pepper stretched out on the blanket straight away while Natasha watched the kids run.

Pepper’s Stark phone buzzed and she pulled it out with an apologetic look at Pepper. Natasha sat down while Pepper took care of whatever was happening at Stark Industries – some problem with a supplier, by the sound of it. Pepper ended the call and said, “I’ve got to send an email quickly. It won’t take long.”

“Don’t mind me,” Natasha said, pulling out a novel and settling in to read a few pages.

It was a peaceful day, even though Pepper got two more phone calls and sent five more emails. Natasha supposed that Pepper would never be able to have an entire day completely free of business. In between phone calls they played cards and talked. Darya and Mitchell constructed an elaborate system of castles and canals in the wet sand.

At lunchtime they called the kids back to hand out sandwiches and reapply their sunscreen. They ran off again, straight for the ocean, and splashed in up to their knees.

The day had warmed up considerably and the water was beginning to look pretty appealing. Natasha hadn’t thought to bring a change of clothes for herself, and she couldn’t decide whether or not she cared. But to her surprise, Pepper got up and raced after the kids, leaving her sandals behind on the blanket.

Pepper waded into the water and the kids immediately splashed her from head to toe. She shrieked and picked Mitchell up, dangling him threateningly in front of a wave. Darya laughed and pulled on Pepper’s arm, and all three of them fell down in the surf.

Natasha didn’t want to miss out on the fun, so she ran over and helped the kids gang up on Pepper, although it quickly turned into a free-for-all with everyone splashing everyone else. 

Natasha withdrew from the water, drenched hair dangling in front of her face, shivering in her clammy clothes, and rubbed herself dry with Darya’s towel. Pepper followed, drying herself off with an extra towel and pulling on a large flannel shirt, because of course Pepper came prepared.

The kids were still playing, and Natasha watched in awe. They could probably go all day and into the night, but Natasha didn’t think she could handle that.

“I didn’t bring any other clothes,” Natasha said. “We’ll have to go soon. I’m soaked. And I’ve got sand all over me. Between my toes, in my hair, I’m pretty sure there’s some in my underwear...” She caught Pepper’s eye and blushed.

Pepper, for her part, gave Natasha a knowing grin but didn’t comment. “We’ll have to get you home, then,” she said instead. She held out a hand and Natasha took it, following her back to their things on the beach to begin packing up. Natasha watched Darya play as she followed up the blanket, and Pepper followed her gaze. 

“Pepper, this was...” Natasha trailed off, because she couldn’t think of anything to say about the day that felt quite right. Across the sand, she heard Darya squeal, “Best day ever!” and couldn’t help but grin.

“Yes,” she said. “The best day ever.”


End file.
